Stop the World Cause I Wanna Get Off With You
by goodbyestrangerr
Summary: Dean just moved into a small town in South Dokota, and of course his drunk for a dad picks a neighborhood with houses that are three feet apart from each other. But when Dean opens his window that night, he discovers a mysterious boy with bright blue eyes lives in the house three feet from his.


Dean Winchester sighed as he cut open the last cardboard box remaining in his new room. The tape cut with a zip noise and was ripped open by Dean's ongoing rage. His hands pulled the flaps of the box apart and he accidentally tore them off. He sighed again, one more thing he had to worry about; John being angry about some stupid cardboard box he would insist on wanting to keep nice for the future. John always found the simplest things to get worked up over as an excuse to yell at Dean. The flaps were thrown across the room, only to hit his statues of angels his mom had given him before she died. Dean had never moved so quickly in his life to catch the statues before they took a swan-dive off his dresser. He gripped the angels in his hands, focusing on his mother. 'If she were here', he thought, 'she would help me unpack and help me tape up that box before Dad found out about it.' He set the angels back on top of the dresser and took a deep breath. The new room had an odd scent to it and an all around weird feeling. Dean hated moving. He'd hated it ever since he was young and moved around to various crap motels while his father went God knows where. They'd finally made a home two years ago in Kansas, and now his father decided to drag them up to South Dakota for some reason. Dean fought all he could to stay, but it was useless.

At least Sam was on board with the move. Dean supposed that if Sam was okay with it, he could be okay with it too. After all, his room did come with a window that had a piece of roof attached to it. It looked like a cool spot to sit and watch the stars at night, also perfect for sneaking out. Dean unpacked the last box and taped up the flaps. He gathered the boxes and carried them out to the garage, making a pile with the rest of the empty ones. He decided to go see if Sam needed any help unpacking. On his way back upstairs, he noticed that a picture of his mother was already set on the corner of the countertop in the kitchen. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to smile at it, or ignore it and try not to rip it apart. 'Why would his dad put a picture of Mary in the kitchen? Like he even deserved to look at her face again. Wow what a great start to my day, eating my cereal and staring at my dead mom.'

When Dean got up to Sam's room, he was nearly finished with the last box. His room looked pretty nice, everything all neat and nerdy, just like Sam. His bookshelf still wasn't built though, and four stacks of books that would have came up to Dean's thigh stood in the corner of his room.

"Hey, need some help with that book shelf?" Dean said from the doorway.

"Yeah, sure Dean." Sam said. His upper body was hanging into a box that was much too big for him to reach the bottom. Dean laughed and leaned into the box to pull out the last book in there. Sam smiled, "Thanks Dean."

Sam sorted through his books and clothes while Dean screwed in the screws to Sam's bookshelf with a power drill that Sam thought was unnecessarily loud. When the bookshelf was finished, Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and cleared his throat. Sam immediately started setting books on the shelf and organizing them without a thank you.

"You're welcome for that by the way." Dean said with a chuckle on his way out.

"Oh! I'm sorry Dean, thanks!" Sam called without looking up from his books. Dean shook his head and walked back to his room.

The rest of Dean's day was spent organizing his room, even though he wasn't picky nor neat so he didn't really care, but he wasn't sure of what else to do. He definitely didn't want to go downstairs anymore and risk running into his dad. He didn't plan on talking to him at all the rest of his life. He felt like a dramatic teenager whenever he thought that, but he couldn't help it.

It was finally getting dark out and Dean decided to sneak downstairs to get a beer. He didn't care if John saw him drinking, he wouldn't care at all anyways, he just didn't want to see John. Unfortunately, his sneakiness was something he'd have to work on. With his head in the fridge, he didn't notice John come in the kitchen.

"Whatcha doin' there boy." John huffed.

Dean gulped. "Getting a drink sir."

John nodded. "Get me one too." He said roughly. Dean got out a second beer and tossed it to John. His hands tensed as it left his grip, and he prepared for a smack across the face, but John caught it.

"Don't you throw things at me you little bitch." John snarled as he disappeared into the garage. Dean made a face at the door and flipped it off, but let out a breath of relief he wasn't hit.

Dean made his way back up the creaky stairs that were impossibly narrow and small. The entire step didn't even cover his foot, and every time he ran up the stairs, he had to run on his toes, and still risk slipping. He opened the beer and crawled out onto the patch of roof that extended out from his window. Why it was there, he wasn't sure. Must have been a cover for an extra closet or something. He didn't particularly care though, all he did was sit on the scratchy surface and sip from the cold bottle that really didn't help his situation at all. Now that they didn't live in the city, stars could be seen covering the entire sky. Dean scoffed at the house they moved into though, it was only about four feet away from the neighboring one. They were in South Dakota for Christ's sake. Surely there was land out there that was miles away from the nearest town. But no, John chose a house in a freaking neighborhood. Dean rolled his eyes and tried to distract himself from his crippling life by looking up at the stars.

He nearly fell asleep out there when he heard the creak of an opening window. It was his neighbors window, the one that was four feet away. A cute head poked out of it, one with messy black hair and blue eyes that were stretched in a squint. "What are you doing out here?" The head said. Dean almost laughed out loud, he was not expecting such a deep voice to come from such an innocent looking face. He kept his cool though, and replied, "Just lookin' at the stars. What are you doing out here?"

"Asking what you're doing out here obviously." The head cocked to the side, confused, as if Dean's question was ridiculous.

"That's cool." Dean nodded.

The head also had a body, which crawled out of the window to climb on the nearby roof. The boy sat on it with his knees to his chest and his head resting on top of them. Dean chuckled, the guy was so innocent looking.

"What's your name?" Dean said.

"Castiel." He replied. "I know, I know. It's weird."  
Dean laughed. "Maybe a little. I think it's pretty cool though, does it mean something or something?"  
Castiel smiled. "It's the angel of thursday. You can probably guess what day I was born on."  
"Well I'm Dean." Dean said with a smile. He set down his beer and leaned against the wall of the house.

Dean and Castiel studied each other for a bit. Castiel wore a tan trenchcoat that flared behind him, a white dress shirt, blue tie, and black slacks. Dean was about to mention it, but decided against being rude and besides, it was October and getting colder out. And besides, maybe he went somewhere where he had to be dressed up and just got back. Dean himself was wearing his leather jacket and jeans, and found himself oddly feeling underdressed.

"Did you just move here?" Castiel said all of a sudden.

"Yeah. I'm from Kansas. Have no idea why we moved here to be honest with you."  
"Strange." Castiel said.

"What is?" Dean asked.

"You." Castiel said.

Dean blinked twice and didn't say anything else. Instead he looked back up at the stars and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling too tired to keep them open. Castiel shifted onto his right knee and crawled back inside his window. Before he shut it, he whispered, "Goodnight Dean." Dean nodded in return and took a deep breath. His muscles and bones were too tired and aching to move anymore, so he decided it would be okay to spend the night out there. A horrible decision, really.

Dean awoke the next morning and squinted at the rising pink sun. He had a knot his back and a spine that felt like it needed to be removed from his back, pulled by two people as long as it could stretch, then put back in place. It's current state was too scrunched up feeling, quite like his legs. He groaned at the rising sun and rubbed the back of his neck. His limbs cracked as he sat up to go back inside and get some real sleep. He carefully opened his window, an attempt not to make any noise to wake John or Sammy, and climbed inside, one foot tripping on his rug near the window. A loud thud erupted from the floor and shook the entire house. Dean froze and swore his heart had stopped beating. No doubt, this would end badly. Footsteps stomped up the too noisy stairs only seconds later and Dean panicked. He scrambled off the floor and shredded his leather jacked off his shoulders. He dove into bed and pulled the covers to his eyes and shut them.

"Dean Winchester you bastard open this door!" His father called from the hallway. Dean moaned into his pillow, the door wasn't even locked. His plan to appear to be asleep failed. John would see him in his jeans now. Dean was so tired he went with it anyway. The door opened with a creak.

"What is it?" Dean croaked.

"You know damn well what it is! Banging shit around at eight in the morning!" His father barked.

"I didn't bang anything."

"Shut your mouth you worthless piece of-"  
"Dad!" Sam yelled from his doorway. He stood with his arms crossed against his chest, still in grey pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His hair looked absolutely ridiculous, frizzy pieces sticking out in every direction.

"Get back in your room before I make you." John hissed.

Sam scowled. Dean only shook his head at Sam and mouthed for him to get back in his room, that everything was fine. Sam's eyes looked at Dean sadly for a moment, and his head hung low as he retreated into his room and silently shut the door.

John turned back to Dean, still furious. "You think it's funny waking me up at eight in the goddamn morning then lying to me about it?"

"No sir." Dean said, trying not to let his voice crack.

"What are you in your jeans for?"  
"I fell asleep in them, I was too tired to change into somethin' else."

"Or maybe you were out on the roof talkin' to your boyfriend out there."

Dean's exhale was shaky. "No sir."

John shook his head. Dean didn't see it coming, the fist headed towards his cheekbone. He didn't see the one after it either, aimed straight for the same place. Dean fell backwards and stumbled to the ground, hand holding his cheek. John slammed the door and trudged back downstairs. Dean eventually found himself leaning against his window sill and clutching his face. He looked up only to see the blue-eyed boy in the opposite window, looking directly back at him. Dean scowled at him and shut his curtains.

A gentle knock on Dean's door woke him later that day. He was surprised he wasn't woken earlier by an angry drunk yelling to get his lazy ass up. Dean knew that gentle knock could only come from one person though, and he responded with a lazy and gruff, "Come in".

Sam came in the room nearly tiptoeing. Dean rolled over towards his younger brother and chuckled a little. "What are you bein' so freakin quiet for, chillax Sam." He smiled.

The smile was not returned by Sam. "Can you take me over to a girl's house?" He said. Dean resisted the urge to let out a gigantic snort.

"Seriously Dean!" Sam crossed.

"What are you going over to a girl's house for dummy. It's like noon."  
Sam folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "It's almost dinner time sleeping beauty."  
"What? Shit!" Dean fell out of his bed trying to get up so quickly and he held the side of his head. "Ow." He commented.

Sam scoffed. "Come on Dean, are you going to take me or not?"

"Yes you sasquatch. Let me get dressed and grab my keys and i'll take your sorry ass over there." Dean lightly punched him on the shoulder.

The keys jingled in the air as Sam tossed them to Dean across the impala's hood. Dean caught them and climbed into the driver's set, Sam attempted to get his godzilla like legs into the front seat. Even with extra caution, he still managed to bump his head on the roof. Dean laughed as Sam punched him on the arm. "Hey!" Dean exclaimed, "I'm taking you to this girl's house and this is how you repay me?"

"Jerk." Sam said.  
"Bitch."

Sam and Dean smiled, amused with themselves when Dean caught a face staring at him outside his neighbors window. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and started the car. It was that blue eyed boy from last night that lead him to get yelled at and punched in the face by his father. Dean knew it was stupid to blame that on him, but he did anyway, the dude was being creepy.

On their way to the mystery girl's house, Dean couldn't help but pry as much as he could about her out of Sam.

"Will you at least tell me a name? Hair color? Something?"

Sam sighed, dramatic as usual. "Her name's Jess, and she's blonde."  
"Ooo-la-la." Dean cooed. Sam replied with a second punch to the arm. "Samuel Winchester don't make me pull this car over." Dean said in a sarcastic parent voice. "How do you even know her anyway? We haven't even lived here for two days."  
"I've known Jess since we came up here to visit uncle Bobby like two years ago. She lived in his neighborhood back then and now she lives here in Sioux Falls. I texted her and she invited me over."

Dean held in any comments, not wanting to ruin Sammy's smile on his face. When they got to Jess's house, Sam thanked Dean for the ride and told him he'd text him when to pick him up. Dean smiled and replied with "don't have too much fun" and a wink.

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when he got home, creeper Castiel was still staring out his window, directly at Dean, again. Dean sighed and went inside to hopefully catch the eight o clock rerun of Dr. Sexy on oxygen (a guilty pleasure) and go to great lengths to avoid his father, wherever he was lurking.

Dr. Sexy appeared swaggering through the halls of mercy hospital as Dean walked into his room. He laughed and got comfortable in his bed. He was completely engulfed in the scandalous love triangle of a nurse, her ghost of a husband, and Dr. Sexy, when he was startled by loud taps coming from his window. He scrunched his face and walked over to open the curtains. He half-sighed-half-panicked when he saw Castiel throwing rocks at his window. Dean opened his window and crawled out onto his roof, clearly avoiding this conversation wasn't going to work.

"Hey Cas." He said as casually as he could.

Castiel looked taken aback by the nickname, Dean smirked at his cocked head and squinted eyes. "It's a nickname." Dean said.

"I'm aware."

"Great. So what gives with the starin'."

Casitel looked down in between his knees. "I do not mean to stare, or "creep you out" I was only..." He trailed off.

"Only what Cas?"

"Worried."  
"Why would you be worried about me?" Dean's heart tensed.

"I saw him Dean."  
"Saw what?" Dean said stupidly.

"You're father Dean." Castiel pressed, as if he was annoyed he had to spell it out.

"What about him?" Dean question, again, oblivious.

"Damn it Dean you're father hit you."

Dean's eyes widened and his stomach clenched. No one had ever been so honest with him before, only the half heartedly sympathetic, "I'm sorries", or "You should tell someone about this." Dean would silently laugh at these.

"Yeah." Was all Dean could say.

"Yeah?" Castiel repeated.

"Yeah. Yeah he does. And you know what Cas? Nothing is going to change it. He's never going to stop drinking, or stop hitting me and Sammy, and he'll never get what he wants. There's no way I'm leaving him to die choking on his own vomit alone while Sammy and I are living in some asshole foster family that rapes us every night. There's nothing I can do about this and there's nothing anyone else can do about it either. In a couple months I'll be eighteen and I already have enough combined with Bobby to send his poor ass to rehab and to get me and Sammy an apartment or somethin'. So don't worry about me Cas. I don't need your fuckin' worry. I just need it to be January that's all."

Castiel sat emotionless. He didn't look saddened by Dean's outburst, or guiltily-sympathetic like the other did. He just sat there, staring at Dean like he was a puzzle.

"Okay Dean. I'm sorry that I was worried, I won't ever bother you about it again." He said.

Dean replied with a smile all in his eyes. He was so embarrassed by his outburst but didn't even have time to apologize for it because Castiel already had. "Thanks, Cas."

"Who is Sammy?" Castiel asked with a smile, changing the subject.

That got Dean talking about Sam for nearly an hour. The rest of the night was filled with endless conversation about endless topics. Dean realized Castiel wasn't so bad after all, and when his pocket buzzed, he was almost too engaged with Castiel to notice. Luckily, he managed to pick up.

"Hey Sam." Dean said into the phone, "Yeah no you're not interrupting... How's Jess? You two have a fun little playdate? Okay, okay i'm sorry... actually no I'm not... Alright Sam I'll be there in a few, see you then." Dean hung up the phone still laughing at Sam's overreaction to his teasing.

"You and Sam are very close." Castiel said as more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, always have been, always will."

Dean looked up from his phone and sighed. He attempted to stand up on the roof but realized that was a bad idea when he almost fell off the roof. Had it not been for a quick reflex to grab onto the window sill, he would have been long gone. He blushed, embarrassed. Castiel nearly had a heart attack himself and exhaled, relaxed once Dean crouched into a safer position. Dean nervously laughed, "That was really dumb. Sorry if I scared ya..." He said crookedly smiling.

Castiel laughed. "Well I'll see you around, Cas." Dean said has he climbed back into his window. Castiel was also climbing back inside, "Yes Dean, I'd like that."

Dean was grinning like an idiot the entire drive to pick up Sam.

Sam climbed into Dean's 1967 chevy impala with a grocery bag. Dean raised an eyebrow at the bag until Sam pulled out an apple pie from it, "Jess and I made it, it's for her family and consumer sciences class." He put the pie back in the bag and rolled his eyes at Dean's watering mouth. "And no, you can't have any."  
"Ah come on Sammy," Dean pleaded, "Just a bite?" Sam laughed, "No Dean! Maybe I'll make you one once I can figure out how to make a good one without the help of Jess." Sam smiled as Jess's name left his lips. "You really like her don't cha Sammy?" Dean smiled.

Sam looked down to the bag in his lap and hid his smile. The impala purred to life and Dean pulled out of Jess's driveway and repressed his urge to rip the pie out of Sam's lap and dig in anyway. They sped down the highway in an attempt to avoid an argument with John over their lateness. Their attempt failed, and as Dean and Sam walked into the kitchen, John stood tapping his foot and nursing a beer, leaning over the island. Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder.  
"Head upstairs Sammy, I'll be up in a minute. Don't forget to put the pie in the fridge." Sam turned and looked up at Dean, who only shook his head at his younger brother and patted him on the shoulder once. Sam reluctantly trudged up the stairs.

"Where have you been, boy."

"I took Sam to a friend's house to work on a project for school. I just picked him up about a half hour ago." Dean gulped.

"It's nearly half past 9 o' clock." John warned, pressing up from the counter and walking towards Dean.  
"I guess he didn't finish the project as early as he thought." Dean said, standing as tall as he could.

"You guess? You should have picked him up over an hour ago Dean."

Dean blinked once, twice, trying to stay calm before John, but completely folded. He took two steps backwards and grabbed a knife from the drawer. "Don't touch me Dad." The old floorboards creaked under Dean's feet as he slowly backed away towards the hallway. John followed him, about five feet away from him. John shook his head and laughed. "You're not gonna stab me Dean. Like you've got the balls to stand up to me."

Dean dropped the knife onto the counter by the house phone. He scowled at John's dark laugh and backed into the hallway. He ran up the too-small stairs and into his room. The door slammed behind him and blocked out John's echoing laugh. Dean held his hands in his head and climbed out onto his roof. A cold autumn chill bit at the back of his throat as he shuffled onto the small scratchy surface. He twirled three pebbles in his palm before throwing them at Cas's window. He didn't plan on seeing Cas again for a few days, let alone an hour. But he threw the pebbles anyway, desperate for some company. Cas came to the window only moments later and opened it with a confused squint. "Are you alright Dean?" He called quietly.

Dean stuttered before replying, "No Cas, I'm pretty damn far from alright."  
Cas nodded and climbed out onto his roof. He folded his hands and rested them on his knees. The wind howled between them and leaves were carried with it beneath them. Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the moldy siding.

"How can I help, Dean?" Castiel said. Dean slowly opened his eyes and looked into Cas's for a moment. The blue orbs glew in the dark moonlight, standing out from his dark hair and dark t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Just sit with me here for a minute okay?" Dean said. Castiel looked back at him and almost smiled, "Okay Dean." He replied.

They sat for about fifteen minutes before Dean's eyes began to flutter closed like they had his first night. When they finally closed, he felt like a kid falling asleep on the couch, begging his parents to carry him to bed. That was how it was when Mary was alive and John had his sanity. Castiel whispered something to Dean but Dean couldn't make it out. He didn't see Castiel climb across to his patch of roof and quietly dive into his window. He did, however, feel Castiel's hands on his waist and shoulder, gently pulling him into the house and carrying him into his bed. Dean curled into his sheets and dragged them up over his shoulders. He thought he could hear a small laugh come out of Castiel before he whispered, "Goodnight Dean," and left. Dean smiled into his pillow and dreamt of a sea that was an entirely too familiar shade of blue.


End file.
